The abortion that is Australian politics; Julia Gillard and homos; piracy, privacy, surveillance states and why Hollywood must be destroyed; islam, Geert Wilders and why Sam Harris needs to read more; and a shitload more.

I grew up withMaximumRockNRoll. Whilst far too often wallowing in identity politic nihilism, it was a priceless resource for alt.culture in the pre-internet stone age. It kept many of us sane, providing endless resources to other folks like us cruelly separated by the tyranny of distance. The premier issue was July 1982 – which makes us scumfucs that remember pushing 50 and beyond. The age that we used to hate with a fearsome passion.

Central to MRR’s appeal was knowing you were not alone. That there were others on the planet that held the same contempt for what passed as pop culture of the time. For me personally, rock bottom was reached here, also in 1982 – ABC and Look of Love[masochists can click here]. I cannot articulate the despair that was evoked by this nothingness that was everywhere – every music teevee show, every commercial radio channel, every shopping mall, pub and club. Noxious, spotty teenagers pumping dimes in jukeboxes playing the same non-music, bubblegum garbage everywhere. There was no escape. But there was MRR – and it was a lifeline.

The most wonderful feature of MRR, and similar zines such as Metal Forces for the headbangers, was the personals section where folks would post real addresses for correspondence and, most importantly, cassette tape trading of music – very much the Napster of its day. (more…)

Hollywood creates nothing. Neither does the RIAA. Ask them – have they ever returned a cent to artists by suing dead people and single mothers? They will not answer. They are parasites. Dinosaurs that natural selection is removing from the biosphere. They have no function other than to serve themselves. Herein lies their desperation.

Or the strange case of The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade (aka Marat/Sade)

Valhalla Cinema, Glebe. Being turned into another filing cabinet for yuppies.

/

In many ways, the demise in 2005 of the Valhalla Cinema was the final nail in the coffin of Sydney, Australia, as a valid cultural epicentre in the greater kosmopolites. It was a final kick in the groin to a city that had once boasted an underground arts and music scene to rival London, Frisco, New York or Berlin. Of course the rot began some two decades earlier, the deadly combination of easy wealth and imbeciles saw the gentrification of its inner city. Music venues closed, replaced my slot machine casinos and retarded techno/dance clubs with bright lights and mirrors to hypnotise the vapid. It was a descent into narcissism and shallow spectacle, a playground for nouveau riche vulgarity, a culture effectively placed in a coma. And it was a scene replayed the world over. As a testament to the abject hollowness of what Sydney has become, the Valhalla hasn’t even merited its own Wikipedia entry from any of its residents – all a google search reveals now are a former map location, some minor footnotes in irrelevant blogs and some private photo galleries. It may as well never have existed. (more…)